


Le Morte de Merlin

by lionfish13



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur-centric, BAMF Arthur, Boys In Love, But ultimately lives, Developing Relationship, Episode: s01e13 Le Morte D'Arthur, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone lives, Except Nimueh, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin Dies (Merlin), POV Arthur, POV Third Person, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 04:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionfish13/pseuds/lionfish13
Summary: Based on the following Kinks of Camelot Kinkmeme prompt:'Merlin is bitten by the Questing Beast instead of Arthur'Budding Arthur/Merlin relationshipWarning: Temporary Major Character DeathHappy ending, I promise!





	Le Morte de Merlin

**Author's Note:**

> I'll repeat: Warning: Temporary Major Character Death
> 
> I loved this Kinkmeme prompt as soon as I saw it. This fic has been over a year in the writing! Apologies in advance for any mistakes, plot holes, OOCness etc. I just hope you enjoy it!

Arthur squinted as his eyes sought out any movement in the deep darkness in front of him. The tunnels in the Questing Beast’s cave were as black as the night sky and his fiery torch lit only a small area.

He had always done his utmost to be able to be called a brave man, but Arthur’s heart was hammering in his chest as he crept along, ears straining to pick up any sound. He had put on his usual bravado for Merlin, of course, but Arthur was always very aware of the disadvantages he faced, expert swordsman as he was, when facing magical beasts, and the Questing Beast was the most dangerous of them all; one bite and there was no saving you, it might be quick or you might linger on for a few days, but ultimately you were a dead man. 

Arthur could hear Merlin’s faint breaths behind him. His other men had split off, following other routes through this warren of tunnels, but Merlin had stuck with Arthur. He was grateful - not that Merlin (untrained, unarmed, clumsy Merlin) would be much use against such a beast as they were hunting - but at least with Merlin by his side he wouldn’t have to waste his concentration wondering if he was okay.

A rock skittered across the path ahead of them, skimming around the corner. Arthur's head snapped around and he pressed himself back against the wall of the corridor, his left hand shooting out to drag Merlin back next to him. Merlin let out a soft “Oof” as he was yanked forwards, and Arthur frowned at even that possible giveaway. They stood frozen, Arthur’s hand on the hilt of his sword, as something shifted forwards on soft, padded feet.

A deep, rumbling sound emerged from the beast and Arthur felt a wave of fear rush over him. This had to be it; there was no escaping it, he had to confront it.

Passing the torch to Merlin, Arthur gripped his sword tightly in both hands and edged forwards. The beast must have glimpsed the flicker of the torch as it swung its reptilian head towards them and hissed, its razor sharp fangs ominously protruding from its gaping mouth.

Arthur stepped away from the wall just in time; the beast sprang forwards on its muscular lion’s legs and would have had him pinned against the rock if he hadn’t moved. Still, it swiped a heavy paw at him, and it took all of his fast reflexes to block the blow and then swing to parry the beast’s head as it darted forward to snap at him.

The beast was fast and strong, although the cave tunnels were a tight space for its great body, making it harder for it to manoeuvre. They fought together, man and beast, for blow after blow, until at last a loose stone slipped under Arthur’s foot and his ankle buckled, sending him to the ground. The beast roared and leapt, and Arthur had only a moment to see his doom reaching for him with foetid breath and sharpened fangs, when someone fell upon him, blocking his sight but smelling faintly of hay and Gaius’ herbs, and whose startled and pain-filled cry in that familiar voice caused Arthur’s heart to wrench.

That fool! Merlin! His dear, devoted, idiotic manservant had ignored Arthur’s instructions to stay hidden back and had thrown away his life to protect Arthur.

Merlin’s body sagged on top of his, and Arthur felt rage well up inside him. Rolling Merlin’s body to the side, he snatched up his sword and spun to face the beast just as it lunged for him once more. He poured all of his strength and all of his anger into the blow and drove his sword into the side of its head, dragging it down and slicing through the softer flesh at its neck. The beast dropped where it stood, its racing heart sending out gushes of blood as it gave its final few pumps.

Arthur threw down his sword and rushed to Merlin’s side. __Please, please…__he begged inside his head, but as he carefully turned Merlin over and saw the rip in his jacket and the blood already soaking it through, he knew it was too late and despair overwhelmed him.

“Merlin,” he whispered brokenly. Merlin gave a faint moan in response, but his closed eyes didn’t even twitch, and the blood had started to stain the dusty earth beneath him.

The clanking of steel feet told him that his knights had arrived, and he looked up, watching them take in the scene, seeing their eyes fix on Merlin and their faces turn to horror.

“We must get him to Gaius,” he said, somehow summoning the strength to take on the leadership as normal. He began to slide his arms under Merlin to lift him.

“But, sire…” Leon began, looking sorrowfully at Merlin, “What can Gaius… if the stories are true, there is nothing that can be done.”

Arthur looked him in the eye and replied, “We have to try, Leon. Gaius is the only hope we’ve got. Let’s go!” With that, he turned his back on the Questing Beast and began to march out of the caves as quickly as he could, clutching Merlin’s damaged body to his chest like a precious treasure.

He bore him on his horse the entire journey back to Camelot, pinning him against his body, one hand splayed over his heart, feeling for the faint beat when Merlin’s breaths became too quiet to hear over Arthur’s harsh, fearful, panting puffs of air.

When Camelot finally came into view, Arthur had never felt such relief mixed with such utter desperation as he drove his horse at a fast gallop through the crowded streets of the lower town and up, into the courtyard of the citadel. Springing down and tenderly pulling Merlin into his arms, he carried him up to Gaius’ chambers, hoping that the court physician would be home.

* * *

Gaius looked up in shock as the door to his quarters burst open so hard that it ricocheted loudly against the wall. His heart stuttered as he took in the sight of Arthur, pale and fearful, striding into the room, clutching Merlin’s limp body in his arms. 

He staggered to his feet and hurried over to Arthur, his experienced eyes sweeping over Merlin’s form, taking in his wan face, the perspiration trickling down his temple, the slight purpling of his lips. He guided Arthur to the spare bed at the side of the room and helped him lay Merlin gently down. When Arthur withdrew his arms, the chainmail that had wreathed the arm that had supported Merlin’s back bore a deep rust stain; Gaius turned back and carefully lifted Merlin’s side, confirming with his own eyes the fear that had sprung up the moment Arthur had burst in: Merlin had two deep puncture wounds, clearly made by the fangs of the Questing Beast.

“It bit him, Gaius,” Arthur spoke hoarsely. His voice was barely a scratch, and when Gaius glanced up at him, he could see the ragged exhaustion and terror written across Arthur’s face. “For me - he threw himself between the beast and me. The damn fool!” Arthur punched the wall beside Merlin’s sickbed in anger, then turned and gazed helplessly upon Merlin’s motionless body. “Please, Gaius. Please, tell me you can save him.”

Gaius closed his eyes for a long moment, before opening them and studying Arthur. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and subdued. “I will do everything in my power, sire; however, I fear very greatly that nothing I can do will help - it is said that none can survive the bite of the Questing Beast, it is too deadly, its power too great. Merlin… is already at the edge. But of course I will try, and I will need your assistance, sire, if you would grant it to me,” he asked earnestly.

“Of course, Gaius, just tell me what you need!” Arthur responded, jumping up urgently and peering around Gaius’ workshop as if he would find the exact remedy they would need to cure Merlin just sitting on a shelf gathering dust as it waited for its time, this very moment.

Arthur and Gaius spent the next two and a half hours cleaning Merlin’s wounds, applying varying poultices, slipping a number of foul-smelling, viscous potions down his throat and anything else Gaius could think of trying. He even muttered the few healing spells that he knew while Arthur was grinding ingredients for one of the potions.

Nothing helped. Merlin’s breaths grew even fainter and more laboured; he sagged into the bed, his head listing to the side, no strength left in his body. In the end, Gaius and Arthur stood side by side, in silence, next to Merlin’s bed, their hearts breaking as they helplessly watched his chest still completely.

Gaius had seen many of his patients slip away from their earthly life, but none had been as dear to him as Merlin; none had been like a son to him. He couldn’t stop the pained cry that fell from his lips as he leaned forwards and took Merlin’s hand gently in his own. It was still warm.

Arthur stood in utter shock. Merlin was dead. Merlin was __dead!__ How could this be? How could he be lying there, unmoving? Surely he would open his eyes in just a moment, grin at Arthur for falling for his joke, then call him a prat when Arthur tells him off?

Arthur stared at Merlin, willing him to open his eyes. He wouldn’t care what insults or rude names Merlin threw at him if he would just open his eyes, just __not be dead__.

Merlin didn’t stir.

Arthur rounded the bed to the side opposite Gaius and tentatively took hold of Merlin’s other hand.

“Merlin,” he whispered urgently. “Merlin… Please!”

He knew what a sight it made, the Crown Prince on his knees beside his manservant, pleading, begging; yet, what did it matter? What did being Crown Prince matter? Merlin was lying here, all life gone from his body. No light breath slipped past his lips, his eyelids did not flutter, his chest did not rise and fall, he could be a statue for all anyone would know.

He would not be there in the morning to wake Arthur with a cheerful, “Let’s have you, lazy daisy!”. He wouldn’t bring Arthur all of his favourite foods for lunch and then tease him about the number of holes in his belt; he wouldn’t moan about being Arthur’s practice dummy, or drop all of Arthur’s freshly laundered clothes on the floor, or make snide, funny comments about the king’s latest decrees under his breath, or ride at Arthur’s side until his bottom was sore or he nearly fell off from tiredness, or ‘accidentally’ bump Arthur’s arm just when he was about to loose his crossbow and take down a prize stag.

He wouldn’t be there for every day more of Arthur’s life. Merlin was gone. And it was Arthur’s fault.

Arthur gasped a deep breath as the realisation of what had truly happened, what Merlin had done for him, what he had lost in Merlin, struck him. He squeezed Merlin’s hand and leaned forward to rest his head on Merlin’s breastbone. It wasn’t comfortable, Merlin had always been too skinny; Arthur should have made sure he ate more. His free hand came up to cup the back of Merlin’s neck, his fingers coiling in the tendrils of Merlin’s hair, which was still damp from perspiration.

Arthur stayed like that for several long minutes, breathing in Merlin’s unique scent, clinging to the last vestiges of warmth as it began to leave Merlin’s body. After a time, he felt gentle hands cup his shoulders, pulling lightly at him.

“Sire,” Gaius’ sorrowful voice sounded in his ear. “Sire, come away now. Come and sit over here.”

Arthur let Gaius disentangle his hands from Merlin. As he slowly got to his feet, his head still in a fog, he glanced at Gaius’ face and instantly felt guilty. He should be the one taking care of Gaius, not the other way around. The man’s eyes were bloodshot and he looked ten years older than even his advanced age. Arthur pushed himself to focus, and wrapped an arm around Gaius’ shoulders, leading him now to sit at his bench. Gaius ambled over, his eyes filling with tears now that he didn’t have to be the strong one.

“I… I should dress the bo-...him. His body. I need to…,” Gaius began, his heart stuttering at the thought of having to prepare Merlin’s body for the pyre.

“Shh,” Arthur held up a hand, his mind refusing to comprehend what needed to be done for Merlin now. “Just… just, let’s just sit here a moment. Just for a minute…”

They sat in silence, Gaius covering his face with his hands. Arthur felt wretched, he kept replaying the encounter with the Questing Beast in his mind. Merlin’s cry of pain rang out on an endless loop in his mind. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, yanking at the short strands in his anguish.

A low cry sounded behind him, causing him to jump. How vivid that flashback had seemed, as though Merlin’s voice had rung out in Gaius’ chamber, even after death. Arthur forced himself to hold back a sob as he turned to Gaius, only to see Gaius’ startled face staring at him.

“Sire, did you hear…?” Gaius began. Another half-moan came from Merlin’s sickbed and Arthur and Gaius both spun around to stare at the body that a few moments ago lay in death, but now - now, Merlin’s chest was expanding and falling, there-! His head moved, just an inch or two on the old pillow, but he moved, he __moved!__

Arthur was on his feet, running to Merlin’s side and dropping to his knees next to his bed before he even took a moment to think.

“Merlin!” he gasped disbelievingly. Bright, blue eyes found his and pierced him with their gaze. Merlin’s mouth opened and another moan tumbled from his lips, his forehead creasing in pain.

“Arthur,” he whispered, before squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers clawed the bedsheets as his back arched off the bed. “Oh god, Arthur… It hurts… it’s burning me…”

Merlin shifted restlessly on the bed. Gaius had hurried over and was now examining Merlin in shock. The boy had been dead, he had been one hundred percent sure, and he certainly had years of medical practice to know the signs. Yet Merlin was definitely now alive and in need of his assistance.

At Gaius’ instruction, Arthur carefully turned Merlin onto his side again so that Gaius could assess the wounds on his back. They were no better than earlier, still open and bleeding and deep. Gaius did what he could, reattempting the many remedies he and Arthur had applied earlier, but he still didn’t know what he could do to cure the wounds, nothing he tried seemed to have any effect.

Arthur had been beside himself with happiness when Merlin had opened his eyes - it had to be some kind of miracle. Even the worry of seeing Merlin in pain didn’t lessen the joy that he felt that Merlin was __alive__. As Gaius worked to heal Merlin to no avail, however, Arthur felt the joy fade into anxiety and then panic as the wounds on Merlin’s back festered on and Merlin grew noticeably weaker and quieter in his arms.

“Arthur…” Merlin mumbled, struggling to open his eyes to see Arthur’s face.

“Hold on, Merlin! Gaius will find a way to heal you, just, please, hold on!” Arthur begged, stroking Merlin’s hair tenderly. Merlin’s mouth quirked up at the corner for a moment and then slackened, a quiet breath skittering past his lips and cooling Arthur’s cheek. The tense muscles in his face smoothed out as he lay still, once again unmoving and silent as Arthur looked on in horror.

“No…” he whispered in disbelief, his hands cradling Merlin’s face. He couldn’t believe this had happened, a miracle had brought Merlin back to him only for him to be taken away again. A sob wrenched from his throat. “Merlin!” he shouted, his hands moving to Merlin’s shoulders to shake him over and again, Merlin’s lifeless body flopping to the side as Arthur desperately tried to shake him back to life.

“Arthur. Arthur!” Gaius shouted over him, finally capturing Arthur’s attention and pulling him away from Merlin once more. Arthur yanked himself out of Gaius’ grip and began to pace the room.

“We have to do something. We have to do something, Gaius! Merlin can’t die, he can’t, we can’t lose him twice, I can’t…” he broke off, digging the heels of his hands into his forehead.

“This is my fault,” Gaius said heavily, “I had the chance to save him twice, but I didn’t know what to do. I tried everything! But I couldn’t save my own ward. Merlin…” he groaned Merlin’s name as he sat himself heavily on his bench, his back bent with age and sorrow.

Arthur stared at him, anger welling up inside him. Gaius was right, it was his fault - how many years had he been Court Physician and yet none of his remedies had done the slightest bit of good for Merlin! How could he sit there, showing the signs of so many years of age, experience gained but for nothing, when Merlin was lying there already dead when he had barely even become a man?

Arthur clenched his fists, his teeth grinding together as he glared at Gaius, struggling with the urge to lunge forward and vent all of his anger and sadness on the other man, when he glanced over at Merlin and felt all of his anger towards Gaius seep away. Merlin would never want any harm to come to Gaius. Besides, it truly wasn’t Gaius’ fault. No-one survived the Questing Beast’s bite, everyone knew that, and still Gaius had tried, over and over again. Arthur realised that he had always known that, he had just been so desperate to save Merlin and had so much faith in Gaius’ abilities that he had allowed himself to hope, to believe that Merlin might live. What a fool.

Arthur felt all of the fight drain out of him, leaving him exhausted. He dragged his feet back to Merlin’s bedside and collapsed to the floor, resting his head against the bed. He closed his eyes and felt a tear trickle down his cheek.

When he finally opened his eyes again, Merlin was looking back at him.

Arthur stared into Merlin’s eyes, hardly daring to believe that his mind wasn’t merely tricking him into seeing what he so desperately wanted.

“Merlin…” he breathed wonderingly. Tentatively he reached out and took Merlin’s long-fingered hand in his. It trembled and twitched in his grasp. Arthur’s heart jumped as hope and fear warred inside him. He searched Merlin’s face with eager eyes, leaning forward so that their faces were only inches apart.

“Arthur… I can’t… Why is this happening?” Merlin asked in a tiny voice filled with anguish. His weak fingers clutched at Arthur desperately as his chin wobbled and his eyes filled with tears. “It gets so dark… and..and silent… But the pain..” he gasped, “it keeps pulling me back. Why - why can’t it just…just let me…me go?”

Arthur felt a chill run through his whole body at Merlin’s words. Merlin was dying but the pain was what was bringing him back? And it was so terrible that Merlin would rather stay in the darkness and silence than be brought back to life?

And let him go? How could Arthur do that, how, when he kept being offered snatches of a chance to get Merlin back? He never wanted to just let Merlin go, his devoted manservant, his __friend__, so young and brave and selfless that he had just thrown himself in harm’s way for __Arthur__.

What did Arthur have to do to be able to keep him?

Tears were sliding down Merlin’s cheeks now, pathetic sobs and gasps shaking his weakened body. Arthur hadn’t even noticed Gaius approach, so focussed on Merlin as he had been, but there the man was, wiping the perspiration from Merlin’s brow with a cool cloth and murmuring soothing words even as his face betrayed his heartbreak.

Merlin tilted his head back, his lungs gasping desperately for air now, his body stiffening on the hard bed. It was coming, again, Arthur knew it. The hand in his squeezed his fingers for a long moment as Merlin dragged in a long breath; then, releasing it slowly, his eyes drifted shut and the pressure on Arthur’s fingers slackened and Merlin took no more breaths.

Arthur began to shake. He held Merlin’s hand between both of his own and pressed it to his chest. Without taking his eyes off Merlin, he tremulously asked,

“Why, Gaius? Why is this happening? He has…” he took a deep breath, “he has __died__… How is he returning to life? How do we stop this, how do we save him?”

“I do not know, sire,” Gaius replied quietly.

“You must have some idea!” Arthur burst. “Some wild guess, anything!”

Gaius hesitated, looking somewhat nervously at Arthur.

“I can see you have your suspicions, Gaius, tell me!” Arthur ordered.

Gaius sighed, then gazed down at Merlin’s still form. “It is a mere guess, sire, nothing more, but… As you know, it is said that no-one can survive the Questing Beast’s bite; yet Merlin… Merlin is…” Gaius hesitated once more, glancing fearfully at Arthur.

“Go on, Gaius,” Arthur instructed, peering up at the old man with wide, moist eyes.

Gaius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “It is said amongst… certain peoples… that Merlin bears another name. The name Emrys… a name of prophecy and power… It is said that he… is the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth…” Gaius let the words slip from his lips, his voice growing quieter and more nervous the more he spoke. When he opened his eyes again, Arthur was staring at him disbelievingly.

“Merlin? A sorcerer?” he questioned, a confused look on his face. “Gaius… I’m sure you’re mistaken. Merlin is __not__ a sorcerer, I would know, for one! Besides, even __Merlin__ isn’t stupid enough to serve the crown prince of a kingdom where magic is forbidden - under the nose of __my father__?!” Arthur practically snorted at the thought of it.

“I assure you, sire, Merlin has magic, very powerful magic, in fact. His magic is one with the earth, it connects him to every living thing. I suspect - and it is only a suspicion, mind you - that his magic is tethering him to life, pulling him back even though the curse of the Questing Beast is dragging him down into death,” Gaius responded gravely.

Arthur stared at Gaius with wide eyes, hardly able to comprehend what he was saying. Merlin was a sorcerer - a powerful one, at that? Merlin…had lied to him. He had flouted Camelot’s laws, he had flouted all the rules that Arthur had believed in, made a mockery of him! His heart thudded as all of the implications of the past year with a sorcerer at his side began to sink in. He had entrusted Merlin with his thoughts, his worries and fears, had let him dress him, had lain in bed while Merlin stood over him and snuffed out the light of the last candle, had made himself __vulnerable to a lying sorcerer__.

A sorcerer whose hand he still clutched in both of his own, whose cooling fingers had just twitched, and who, when he tore his gaze away from Gaius to look upon the face of a traitor, peered up at him with wide, blue eyes that sought him out with a desperation and yearning that simultaneously broke and mended his already shattered heart.

“Arthur…” Merlin moaned, and Arthur knew then that sorcerer or not, there was nothing that he would not do to save Merlin’s life.

Merlin died a further nine times that night.

* * *

Gwen appeared at Gaius’ door in the early morning, searching for Arthur. She had clearly been all over the castle looking for him, judging by the faint sheen of perspiration on her brow and the look of relief when he opened the door to her. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused when she took in his haggard face. Concern flashed across her face for a moment, but she gave a quick curtsey and delivered her message. 

“My lord, the king requests your presence in the council chamber.”

Arthur grimaced, then painted a faint smile on his face and thanked her. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was face his father, he was physically and emotionally exhausted, his mind lost in a fog of despair and grief. How many times over the past few hours had he watched pain wrack Merlin’s body, only for death to snatch him away, before letting him slip back out of its grasp into the torturous world of the living once more? An endless cycle of horror and heartbreak and loss, from which there was no relief, no respite; even when Arthur closed his eyes he could still see Merlin’s tortured body before him, his ears tormented either by the sound of Merlin’s wretched, pain-filled gasps or the even more terrible silence that followed.

He gripped the door frame with tense fingers, his teeth clenched shut, breath coming fast as the haunting memories of the past night flooded his mind. A gentle hand on his forearm pulled him back to the present and he opened his eyes to see Gwen’s warm, brown eyes studying him closely, full of concern.

“My lord! Arthur… Are you all right?” she asked worriedly.

Arthur pulled himself together. He couldn’t fall apart, not in front of Guinevere. “Yes… I’m fine, thank you, Guinevere. I will go to my father now.” He glanced over his shoulder back into Gaius’ chambers, then looked back at Gwen, hesitating before deciding to place his trust in her to bear Merlin’s precious secret and not flounder in the terrible situation they now found themselves in. “Guinevere… I’m sorry to ask this of you, I have no desire to burden you… but please will you stay with Gaius? He should not be alone right now.”

Gwen’s eyes flicked past him into the chamber beyond, confused. “Of course, sire. Is Gaius unwell?”

“No, Gaius is well…” Arthur’s heart panged. “It - it’s Merlin. He’s…hurt.” Arthur couldn’t bring himself to explain more than that, despite feeling guilty for pushing Gwen into such a painful situation. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he caught her eye once more and thanked her, hoping that his tone would express his sincere gratitude to her for her help in such a serious situation without him having to go into it further. Giving her a nod, he turned and walked briskly away from Gaius’ chambers, steeling himself to see his father.

* * *

Arthur took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air as it breezed through the corridor, before shoving the heavy oak doors to the council chamber and forcing himself to stride forward with his usual confidence into the room. He hoped that he had been successful in schooling his face into a reasonably carefree mask.

King Uther was sitting in his high backed chair at the head of the table, looking regal and serious as usual. He glanced up when Arthur entered and, upon seeing who it was, sat up straight and gave his full, stern focus to his son.

“Arthur! At last!” he boomed, reprimanding him. “I sent that serving girl to find you hours ago, where on earth have you been? I had reports that you arrived back in Camelot hours ago.”

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, father,” Arthur apologised, ducking his head. “I was…with Gaius.”

“With Gaius?” Uther repeated, questioning him sharply. “Was someone bitten by the Questing Beast? Surely they would already be dead if that were the case, what did you require of Gaius that would be so important that you failed to report to me first?”

“Nothing!” Arthur burst, eyes widening slightly in panic at his father’s line of questioning, before he pulled himself together and forced himself to calm down. Whatever happened, he could not let Uther suspect that Merlin had been bitten; there was no possible explanation that he could give of his continued survival, sporadic as it was, beyond the intervention of powerful magic, and that way led only to the pyre. “No-one was bitten, father, we took the required precautions and managed to overpower the Beast and slay it before it could press its attack. As for Gaius, I…” he scrambled wildly in his mind for a suitable excuse. “I collected various parts of the Beast which I took to Gaius so that he might study them and perhaps gain some insight into it or potentially even use the components to develop a remedy for any ills that might affect the people of Camelot. I thought that such a rare opportunity as this should not be wasted, and took the parts to Gaius immediately before they spoiled,” he finished, holding his head straight and looking into his father’s eyes, hoping that Uther would accept the excuse.

“Hmm.” Uther pursed his lips, but then tilted his head slightly in quiet acquiescence. “I would rather that you had reported to me immediately, see that you do so in future, Arthur; in all matters, but in particular those as critical as this situation. Ensuring that Gaius could make the most of the situation through his study was, however, well thought. Very well, have you anything further to report?”

“No, father, that is all,” Arthur replied, holding in his relief.

“Very well, you may go,” Uther dismissed him. “Have Merlin make particular effort with your armour, Arthur, it is shockingly covered in blood, it is as though the Beast emptied itself all over you!”

“Of course, father,” Arthur replied in a numb voice. Dipping his head in a reverent bow, he spun on his heels and left the room as quickly as he could without seeming to be running away. The Beast had indeed practically emptied itself onto him, he flashed back vividly; what was worse, was that on the journey home, wrapped in his arms, so had Merlin. Whose blood was it drying in the grooves and crevices of his armour?

He stumbled in a blur through the castle, not paying attention to where he was going in his anguish and exhaustion. He couldn’t face seeing Merlin dying before him again just now, nor watch Gaius’ heart break before his eyes. Unbidden, his feet led him to his own chamber, and he stripped off what he could of his armour, left the rest and collapsed onto his bed, dirt and blood and sweat smearing onto the rich, silken sheets beneath him. Two deep breaths and he was asleep.

* * *

Arthur awoke to the sounds of shrieking in the courtyard outside. The piercing shout jerked him from his uneasy sleep and he scrambled to his knees and slipped onto the hard stone floor with a clang as his limbs caught in his bedsheets. He blinked, his brain still not fully awake even as he tried to muddle through what was happening.

Pulling himself to his feet, weighed down by his bloodied armour that he hadn’t fully removed the night before, Arthur cast his eyes about the room and, seeing no person or threat in his chambers, moved across to the window. Throwing it open, he leaned his head out, wincing against the bright sunlight, and spotted a couple of servants talking agitatedly to the head cook and wringing their hands.

“...all of them, I don’t know… How could this have happened, who would do something like that? No eggs now, no meat, what are we going to eat? We’ll starve, we’ll all starve!” one of the young girls burst out despairingly.

“Well, plenty of meat for now, we’ll be eating chicken for the next month!” The head cook harrumphed, crossing her arms. “We’ll need to get them into the kitchen as quickly as possible, before they spoil. Just more work for me, as if I haven’t already got enough to do. But who would go to the trouble of slaughtering the entire castle’s stock and where we’re going to get more chickens in from now, I don’t know. I ‘eard there’s already been peasant folk coming in from the villages, they’ve been losing their livestock too. They’ll ‘ave none to spare for the castle. Unnatural, this is, if you ask me.”

Arthur pulled his head in in alarm. The castle’s animal stocks decimated overnight? Who would do such a thing and why?

Fully awake now, he strode to his chamber door and threw it open, catching a passing servant. Summoning him into his chamber, with terse instructions he guided the boy to help him remove the rest of his armour and clean and dress him quickly. Then, dismissing the boy, he ventured out into the castle to speak to his father.

As he turned a corner along one of the corridors, his attention was captured by a small child sobbing into his hands, one of the castle’s servants hushing him in a soothing voice as she pulled him into an embrace.

“There, there, sweetheart…” she murmured softly.

“I want Bounder back,” the little boy wailed, curling his fingers into the soft folds of her dress and pressing his teary face into her shoulder.

“I know, darling, he was a good dog… But he was getting old, he’s in a better place now.”

Arthur paused as he overheard the conversation and frowned. First the chickens had perished, now Bounder the dog?

Leaving the servant girl and the grieving boy behind, he continued until he reached the Great Hall; but once there he just stopped in the doorway and observed the scene in front of him with wide eyes. His father was red in the face, glaring at the man cowering before him. Arthur recognised Cedric, the stable master, who was usually to be found with a great grin beaming across his face, but now whose head hung low and from whose stuttering words Arthur pieced together what had happened - Uther’s prized horse, Stauncher, had succumbed to a surprise illness and died in the night. Cedric had been unable to do anything to prevent it.

Arthur froze; the loss of the chickens was odd enough, the dog could have been a mere coincidence, but his father’s horse too? All of the castle’s animals were dropping like flies, it could only be magic. Merlin… it had to be connected to Merlin.

Spinning on his heel, he hurried off before his father could spot him and made his way as quickly as he could without drawing suspicion, arriving shortly at Gaius’ chambers.

Knocking softly on the wooden door, he pushed it open a little and peered around, his heart thudding at what he might find. Gaius was sitting at Merlin’s bedside, holding his hand, his head bowed so that his chin rested on his chest. He was wearing the same somewhat tatty tunic as the day before, the dull brown patched in places with the rusty red of Merlin’s blood. Gwen sat on the other side of the bed, leaning forwards, her arms resting on the mattress and forming a pillow for her head. She slept softly, not waking as Arthur inched towards them.

His eyes fell on Merlin. Merlin lay still on the bed, his skin pale and clammy, his jaw slack. Death had clearly claimed him once more. How long ago, Arthur had no idea; Merlin might open his tired but bright eyes and look upon him at any moment, and the thought wrenched at his heart.

Arthur tore his gaze away from Merlin and placed a gentle hand on Gaius’ shoulder to rouse him from his sleep. Gaius groaned as he shifted, his muscles stiff from sitting in the same position for long hours. He gave Arthur a weak smile and moved to stand.

“Don’t!” Arthur stopped him, holding a hand out. “There’s no need to get up, Gaius. How are you?” he asked, concerned for the old man.

“I’ve been better, to be completely honest, sire,” Gaius acknowledged with a small sigh. “Merlin… The night has passed as it began… the poor boy, his suffering…” Gaius’ voice trembled and he hung his head. Arthur felt a wave of guilt for leaving Gaius to look after Merlin through the night without him; he was glad that Gwen had stayed, though knew it must have been heartbreaking for her too.

Still, he had to get back to the newest crisis that had landed upon them.

“Gaius, I must speak with you. A curse seems to have befallen the castle - animals are dropping dead everywhere, the livestock for the kitchens is gone, even my father’s horse. There doesn’t seem to be evidence of disease - what could kill them all overnight like that anyway? This must be stopped - we cannot sustain damage like this. Could it be connected to Merlin somehow, or is this a whole new magic?”

Gaius’ face grew even more solemn as he listened to Arthur explain what he had overheard as he had passed through the castle.

“I fear that it must be connected to Merlin, as you have rightly considered, sire. The laws of magic insist upon a balance between life and death; if life is granted to one, life must be taken from another. I have lost count of how many times death has tried to claim Merlin tonight, and yet, his power is so great that death cannot hold him. Each time life is given back to him, death must fall to another to maintain the balance!”

Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. “But that means that the castle’s animals will continue to die unless we can save Merlin from the Questing Beast’s bite!”

Gaius nodded gravely. “Indeed, sire… Though even once the animals are all dead, the curse will not stop - it will move on to the citizens of Camelot until the entire city is laid waste!”

“Tell me how we stop this!” Arthur demanded, terror settling into his bones. Losing Merlin had been devastating enough, he couldn’t lose Camelot too, it was his job to protect his people.

Gaius frowned, pursing his lips as he thought deeply. “The legend plainly states that none can survive the bite of the Questing Beast, I don’t know if it is possible to stop it…!”

Arthur huffed, feeling a wave of anger sweep through him, and clenched his fist tightly to prevent from lashing out in defiance of their terrifying situation.

“There must be a way, Gaius,” he gritted out. “None can survive, and yet Merlin somehow does, even if only for moments. There must be a magic out there strong enough to end this!”

Gaius’ body twitched as if something had suddenly occurred to him and he turned to face Arthur, studying him appraisingly.

“There may be a way, sire…” he began in a quiet, cautious voice. “The only way that I can think of, and yet I cannot guarantee that it will work.”

“What is it?” Arthur snapped impatiently, struggling to hold himself back from pacing the room or shaking Gaius in his desperation to spring into action and put an end to this crisis.

“The Cup of Life.”

“The Cup of Life?”

“Yes, sire. A mystical object, I don’t know if it even truly exists, but the old legends tell repeatedly of a blessed, gilded cup whose water restores life to any being that drinks from it.”

“Where do the legends say it can be found? Quickly, Gaius, it’s our only chance to save Merlin, tell me, I must find it!” Arthur couldn’t stop himself from pacing the room in his agitation now, running his fingers through his hair and clenching and unclenching his fists. Gaius watched him anxiously, caution warring with his own desperation to match Arthur’s urgency.

“It is said that the Cup of Life can be found on the Isle of the Blessed, upon a lake near to the Great Seas of Meredor.” The words had barely left Gaius’ lips before Arthur was striding towards the door. “Sire, it is a perilous journey! And for a mere legend, it is too dangerous!”

“It’s the only plan we have, Gaius. The only chance to save Merlin - and Camelot!” Arthur replied, glancing over his shoulder at the old man as he flung open the door. “I’ll be as quick as I can - the way things are going, we don’t have much time left.”

* * *

A few people tried to speak to him as he strode down to the stables to collect his horse, but Arthur ignored them all, meeting no-one’s gaze as he hurried determinedly along. Clattering across the courtyard’s cobblestones, he knew he would have to give answers later, but he had no time to spare for that now.

He pushed the horse as hard as he dared, knowing he needed him at full strength for the return journey as well. It took the whole day and some of the night too to get to the shores of the lake; Arthur stopped for only a few short hours’ rest before continuing just before daybreak.

A small boat was tethered to a post at the edge of the still water and Arthur wasted no time untying the rope and pushing the boat onto the water, hopping in and rowing steadily across the lake to the small island in the centre.

A crumbling ruin of what once was probably a small fortress dominated the island. Its grey stone was now dotted with hardy weeds forcing their way through the cracks. Arriving at the edge of the island, Arthur left the boat firmly beached, silently drew his sword and cautiously made his way amongst the ruins. The island was seemingly deserted, the air still and eerily quiet. Still, Arthur couldn’t be sure that no-one, man or beast, had made the island their home, and considering that he could be fairly sure that the ruins were caused by his father’s purge on magic, if anyone was still here, he couldn’t be sure of a friendly welcome.

Emerging into a roofless courtyard, empty except for a large, stone altar in the centre, Arthur quickly spotted the chalice perching in pride of place on the altar. It gleamed, gold and bright, studded with colourful gems; the only thing on the whole island that looked cared for rather than abandoned.

Focussing solely on the Cup of Life, Arthur sprang forwards, his armoured footsteps somewhat muffled by the moss covering the flagstones.

To his right, a clear voice rang out. “Arthur Pendragon! Stop!”

Arthur jerked to a stop, spinning around and lashing out with his sword. The voice had struck him like a blow; he had been so set on the Cup of Life, he had had no idea someone else was here and had thrown caution to the wind in his eagerness to achieve his goal. All of his years of training had fled his mind and he had been caught, and the woman before him was clearly a witch.

Raven hair cascaded down to her pale shoulders; a bold, red dress hugged her slender shape, matching the richness of her lips. She was beautiful - and the smile lifting her crimson lips was deadly. She was eyeing him with a mixture of hunger, amusement and contempt. She had no weapon but barely cast a scornful glance at his sword, held out in front of him in readiness for an attack. She seemed utterly calm and relaxed as she sauntered into the courtyard, hips swaying as she walked.

“Stay back!” Arthur commanded, forcing his voice to remain steady and free of the fear that he felt coursing through his body.

“You can put that sword away, Pendragon; your weapons won’t help you here with me. If you think you could even graze me, you’re a fool.” The witch stepped closer until she was just out of Arthur’s reach. Stopping, she gazed at him, a snide yet curious look on her face.

“I didn’t come here to harm you,” Arthur explained, not lowering his sword. “Leave me be and I will go on my business and be on my way.”

“What is your business here? What business can a __Pendragon __have other than death and destruction?” she sneered in reply.

“I am not here to destroy anything, I’m here to save a life!” Arthur shouted, frustration lacing his tone.

“You are here for the Cup of Life. Desired by many, why do __you __deserve this blessing?”

“Merlin… My manservant lies dying to save my life, I cannot let him make such a sacrifice.”

“You make such an effort for your manservant?” The witch paused, tilting her head as she considered Arthur in surprise. “What can this boy mean to you, that the son of __Uther Pendragon__ would go to such lengths, resort to the very magic that his father sought to destroy, to save a mere servant?”

Arthur winced as she spat out his father’s name, her lip curling in fury and disgust. He eyed her warily and gripped his sword tighter.

“What would your father say if he knew of this betrayal?” she continued.

“I am not here to waste time with you!” Arthur snapped, “It is my responsibility to protect my people, I need the Cup to save Merlin. Let me pass! No harm will come to you.”

“Such a noble quest, and yet harm must come to __someone__, Arthur Pendragon; your father and mother must have taught you that. Perhaps you do not care that your actions will bring death to another so long as your precious Merlin is saved?”

“I promise you, I mean no harm to you or any other - no one need die!” Arthur insisted, feeling his anger and frustration grow.

“Life can not be restored to one without taking it from another, Pendragon!” the witch shouted, finally showing a burst of anger. “Your father made this very bargain, your barren mother’s life given in exchange for a son! Whose life will you give up so willingly and thoughtlessly for Merlin?”

Arthur froze. He surely had misunderstood what she had just said?

“What did you say about my father? He would never bargain with a sorcerer!”

“He didn’t just bargain with a sorcerer, he bargained with __me__, Nimueh, a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess! Years of marriage and no sign of a child, he turned to me and willingly accepted the price for an heir; heedless of my warnings when I told him that only a life given could yield life in return, he put his desire for a son above his love for his wife and when he lost her, he betrayed me and my kind. After everything we had done for him, fulfilled his wishes and demands, and look what he did! Murder, persecution, destruction! That - __that__ is the greatest betrayal; he betrayed his wife, he betrayed his friends and his people - for __you__, Arthur Pendragon!” Nimueh was quivering in anger, her beautiful face twisted into a snarling scowl. As she spoke, she seemed to grow in size, her shadow stretching out behind her, and Arthur stumbled back in fear.

He felt shaken to his core. Could it really be true? How could he trust the word of a sorceress? His father had always made it clear that magic had killed his mother…but from what Nimueh was saying, Uther had always known that bringing a child into the world with magic would cause Ygraine to die. His father loved his mother, Arthur had always been certain of that truth. How could he willingly sacrifice her so?

He felt confused and numb; stumbling back, Arthur fled the ruined fortress, fumbling his way to the boat and back across the lake. Nimueh wasn’t going to let him near the Cup of Life now, he would have to find another way to save Merlin.

First though, he needed answers; he needed to speak to his father.

* * *

With no time to waste, Arthur rode as quickly as he could back to Camelot. He caught many a curious look as he burst into the citadel courtyard, jumped down from his horse and strode purposefully towards the wooden door that led up the tower to Gaius’ chamber. From the corner of his eye he saw Leon start towards him, but a sharp shake of his head stopped the knight in his tracks. He could only imagine what must be passing through his subjects’ minds when they saw his fierce expression, but he couldn’t make himself relax his features even for appearance’s sake.

He took the stairs up the tower two at a time, knowing that Gaius would be able to hear him coming. His heart thumped as the two terrible questions paraded through his mind on an endless repeat: how far had the effect of Merlin’s condition reached by now and would there be another way of saving Merlin and ending this terrifying curse without the Cup of Life?

Without stopping to knock, Arthur strode straight into Gaius’ workshop. Gaius stood a short distance from where Merlin still lay prone on his bed, clearly waiting for Arthur. He seemed to be battling what he clearly deemed to be an unrealistic hope, and as he took in the wild look on Arthur’s face, his shoulders fell and he gave a deep sigh, sinking into a nearby chair.

“No luck finding the Cup, I see,” he murmured sadly.

Arthur took a deep breath and drew a shaking hand through his hair.

"I found the Cup," he stated bluntly. "It was guarded by a sorceress. She said her name was Nimueh - does that sound familiar to you?" Arthur set his jaw and glared at Gaius challengingly.

Gaius seemed to pale even more. "__Nimueh__?" he repeated in a trembling voice. "You spoke with her?"

"I did. And I have a lot more now to discuss with my father! But before that-" Arthur took a deep breath and looked to Merlin, the hard tension in his body softening slightly as he gazed upon his still form. "- there's still the matter of Merlin. We must find a way to end this curse."

"There is no other way, sire." Gaius faced him worriedly, lacing his fingers together in agitation. "The Cup of Life is our only chance, without it, we are all doomed! If Nimueh is guarding it, there is no way that she will give it up willingly…"

"Gaius, what she told me, of my father - my own birth…" Arthur felt disgust rise in his chest once more, felt his face twist with it. "I must know the truth."

Gaius pinched his lips and dropped his eyes. "It is not my place to tell you about that, sire."

"No, it is my father's duty, and it is long overdue. I cannot hope to take the Cup of Life if I don't understand the truth behind Nimueh's enmity, and if the Cup is the only way to save Merlin, then it's time I spoke to my father."

Spinning around, Arthur strode once more from Gaius' workshop in search of his father.

He found him soon after, in the Great Hall, breaking his fast on bread, cheese, fruit and ham.

Uther frowned with disapproval as the heavy, wooden door was thrown open with a great bang, his mouth falling open as he took in the unexpected sight of Arthur, still in his full armour, marching towards him in great strides. Arthur’s expression was dark, his jaw clenched tight, his movements stiff as he approached his father.

“Tell me about Nimueh,” Arthur demanded as he came to a stop a couple of feet away from Uther’s high-backed chair and slammed a hand onto the table, leaning forwards menacingly. Uther blanched at the name of the witch and stared at Arthur in horror and anger.

“How do you know that name?” he countered.

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me about her, tell me about the deal that you made.”

“I don’t make deals with __sorcerers__,” Uther bluffed, sneering and puffing up in anger. “How __dare __you speak to me in this manner, I am the __king__!”

“Enough!” Arthur shouted, “__Enough of the lies__! You will tell me the truth!”

“Arthur!” Uther hissed through clenched teeth, leaning towards him in his chair in fury. “I __will not__ have this ridiculous conversation. It is not your place to question me, now get out before I have the guards remove you!”

“You used her for her magic and then persecuted her, you chose to let my mother die so that you could have an heir. You despise magic, you have driven it from this land and slaughtered anyone with the gift, even though you yourself were willing enough to use it to get what you wanted!” Arthur was shaking, his voice trembling as he accused his father of the terrible things Nimueh claimed he had done.

“The __gift__?!” Uther repeated in a warning tone, staring at Arthur with wide eyes. “Magic is a curse, Arthur, and those who practise it are consumed by its evil.”

“Then what does that make you?” Arthur roared.

“I have __never __used magic,” Uther retorted angrily.

“No, you get others to do your dirty work, then you hunt them down for carrying out your order! You’re nothing but a hypocrite!”

“Nimueh tricked me! Ygraine wasn’t supposed to die! The sorceress promised me a son, she said nothing about losing Ygraine.”

“The balance between life and death must be kept, a life taken for a life given, the witch told you that,” Arthur hissed back.

Uther closed his eyes for a second. Opening them, his gaze was sad for a moment, before turning hard. “You have spoken to her, and she has put you under a spell, I can see it.”

Arthur snorted, his lip curling over his teeth. He shook his head. “I’m not under a spell. For the first time I see the truth: you turned on the person who tried to help you and persecuted every sorcerer you could get your hands on, regardless of whether they truly deserved it.”

Arthur straightened up, glaring at his father in disgust. He couldn’t bear to look at him any longer; striding away from the table, he moved to stand next to the window overlooking the courtyard, his eyes sweeping his city that was now under a devastating and unending curse. Just then, he caught sight of some of the guards lighting a pyre under a heap of carcasses, dogs, cats, fowl and rodents that had dropped dead under the weight of the curse, the poor beings whose lives had been claimed to restore a few painful minutes of life to Merlin. A shudder ran through Arthur’s body as the flames caught and licked their way around the animals.

“Of course magic is now rising up to defend itself. It must maintain balance. It demands a life.”

Arthur turned and took a long, hard stare at his father. His face twisted into a pained grimace as, slowly, he drew his sword from its scabbard and raised it to point at Uther.

Uther pushed his chair back and stumbled backwards. “Arthur, what are you doing?”

“I will do what is right, what any just leader would do. I will save our people, I will end the curse and bring justice back to Camelot. A life for a life, and you started all of this all those years ago when you had my mother killed and betrayed your citizens!” Arthur’s face had turned blank and hard as he stalked after his father. Breathing hard, he swung his sword heavily at Uther, who threw himself to the side to escape the blade.

“Arthur!” Uther burst, fear lacing his horrified tone. He scrambled away from his son, staring at him in disbelief. “Stop this now! You can’t do this!”

“I have no choice!” Arthur shouted, almost madly. “It’s the only way…” He charged towards Uther once more, who darted around the side of the table, hands scrabbling for anything he could reach, fumbling over food and plates and gripping his dinner knife, holding it out in front of himself defensively.

“Arthur, Arthur, I know this isn’t your fault, you’re under a spell. But if you just calm down, I will help you, we’ll get this all sorted out,” Uther tried to reason with Arthur.

Hesitation flitted over Arthur’s face, before he steeled himself and leapt one final time at his father, pinning him against the table, his sword pressing against his chest. Uther gasped and struggled against him, panting.

“Arthur…” he wheezed.

“I don’t want to…” Arthur said in a small, almost pleading voice. “But what choice do I have? I have to save them… I have to save __him__…! She said a life must be given to bring back the balance, if I don’t do this, we __all __will die!”

“And you believe what a __sorceress __tells you?” Uther ground out, flinching back when Arthur pressed the sword even closer to him. His head thumped back against the hard table.

“She told the truth,” Arthur hissed back.

“And so you will kill me, I am to be your sacrifice? Just as the witch took Ygraine from me, she has managed to convince you to kill your own father,” Uther spat in disgust, helpless against Arthur.

Arthur was breathing hard, his arm shaking with the force of his grip on his sword. He felt slightly mad - surely he must be mad to be threatening the king, his father, in this manner? It made sense though - to save Merlin, to save all of their citizens, another life must be given in exchange, and his father deserved this, he __did__. After all those years of terror and death, his father deserved to face the consequences.

And yet, could Arthur really kill his own father? He would condemn the whole city if he didn’t, but if he chose to take Uther’s life, would that really make him that much different from Uther himself, sacrificing others for his own ends?

Abruptly, Arthur realised that there was another way. He could save them all and let his father live. It would be a greater sacrifice, but a nobler one, and still just. After all, he had tried to do it once before for Merlin, on the beaches of Gedref. At the realisation, he suddenly felt calmer, his path laid out clearly before him. He could make everything right again, all it would take was some courage.

Resolved, he looked down at Uther and in a more controlled, quiet voice, said, “Forgive me, father.”

He eased away from him and stood back, sliding his sword back into its scabbard.

Uther pushed himself up into a seated position and eyed Arthur warily. He knew he shouldn’t push him, but he was the king, actions like these couldn’t be ignored. “You ask easily for forgiveness. Your actions are treason, Arthur.” Arthur merely looked back at him. “But I know that you have been under a spell. From now on, you will obey me without question and find and destroy any sorcerers who dare to enter Camelot and I will judge your actions forgiven.”

“Don’t worry, father. I will atone. I will end this.”

Arthur gave his father a short bow and spun on his heel, exiting the Great Hall without looking back.

He stopped briefly at Gaius’ workshop to take one final look at Merlin, whose eyes stayed shut to the world but whose chest had temporarily resumed rising and falling in gentle breaths, before returning to the courtyard to collect his horse and ride out to the Isle of the Blessed once more. This time he had an offer that he was sure Nimueh would be tempted by.

* * *

Uther had retired to his private chambers after Arthur had marched off. He cancelled all his meetings for the day, ordered additional guards to be posted to his door and promptly gulped down a goblet of strong wine and refilled it immediately.

Hearing a general commotion in the courtyard outside, he moved to the window, frowning as he peered out. Arthur was galloping across the flagstones towards the lower city, on the road that led down to the outer gate. Servants squealed as they threw themselves out of his way.

Uther watched in alarm. Arthur never behaved like this. He must surely still be under the spell - although he had thought he had managed to throw the spell off himself, his eyes had seemed to miraculously clear and he return to himself after releasing Uther from the threat of his sword.

It made no sense; if Nimueh still had a hold over Arthur, then Uther would surely be dead. He knew that she would stop at nothing to destroy him.

Arthur’s final words repeated in his mind, __Don’t worry, father. I will atone. I will end this.__

End this? Atone?

_ _A life for a life…_ _

Realisation hit Uther like a punch to the face and he staggered back from the window in horror. Arthur was still under Nimueh’s spell, and he had figured out that the best way to destroy Uther was to kill his beloved son.

Arthur was going to sacrifice himself under the magical delusion that he would be saving Camelot from a terrible curse.

Uther threw aside his goblet and started towards his chamber door, already shouting for his guards and his horse.

* * *

The sun was setting behind the ruins of the fortress, the sky a suitable shade of pink oozing into blood red, as Arthur stepped out of the small boat onto the short pebbly beach. 

The air was cool on his face as he picked his way over the broken stones to the courtyard where the Cup of Life was kept. He made no attempt to quieten his steps; Nimueh already knew that he had returned, he was sure of it.

He should hurry, he thought to himself. Time had been wasted enough already. Camelot was suffering. __Merlin__ was suffering… And yet, he moved slowly, unable to bring himself to hurry towards his own death. He took deep lungfuls of air with each breath, tasting the moist, earthy scent on his tongue. The waters of the lake lapped gently against the shore, but otherwise all was so quiet. It was peaceful here, even though Arthur felt to his bones that he was a stranger here, he didn’t belong - this place was not meant for him.

“Back already?” Nimueh’s light voice called out to him, rousing him from his thoughts. He looked up and found that without thinking, his feet had brought him to the edge of the courtyard. The Cup of Life sat, glinting golden, on the altar in the centre. Nimueh stood on the opposite side of the courtyard, her stance relaxed even as she watched him calculatingly.

“You know why I am here,” Arthur replied.

“And I gave you my answer before. You will never get your hands on the Cup of Life, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur took a deep breath and stepped forward. “You were right. What you said about my father, what he did; how he treated you. But please, don’t punish Camelot - don’t punish all of the innocent people for what he did. Without the Cup of Life, they will all die.”

“Very noble speech, Pendragon. But those are just words, you think you can spin them to say what I want to hear and I’ll let you have what you want? You have to __mean __them.”

“I do mean them!” Arthur insisted. “I care about my people, it is my duty to save them! I understand that the magic requires a life to be given in exchange for Merlin’s. That’s why I am here.” He paused and took a breath to steel himself. “I offer my life as a sacrifice; I give my life for Merlin’s.”

Nimueh narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head in puzzlement. “You…”she hesitated, “You offer… your __own __life? You would give up your own life to return life to Merlin?” she repeated, astonished.

“Yes,” Arthur confirmed. “Please, come with me and let me take the Cup to Merlin. I will give you your revenge on my family, yours can be the hand that takes my life, but in return I ask you to honour my trust in you and let Merlin drink from the Cup - he must! If he does not, the whole city will be destroyed.”

“You say that like I should care!” Nimueh said disdainfully.

“They are innocents!” Arthur burst out, gesturing in anger.

“So were my people!” Nimueh retorted.

“And Merlin is one of your people! He shares your…gifts. You would consign him to death too? Even after all your protests at how your kind have been so badly treated?”

“Merlin does not die, I thought that was your problem.”

“He dies!” Arthur cried out in anguish. “Over and over and over again! I have lost count of how many times I have seen him succumb over the past days, and still be dragged back into this - this __torment__! __Please__! I am begging you. Help me. Help him!”

Arthur strode forward into the courtyard, stopping in the centre, where the light peeking through the crumbling walls had warmed the flagstones. He dropped to his knees, drew his sword and laid it on the ground in front of him, the hilt nearest to Nimueh.

“Please,” he said again, his voice small. “I swear that I mean you no harm. Take my sword as my proof, it is more than you need to take my life anyway. Please, help me save him!”

Nimueh edged towards Arthur, considering. Bending, she took hold of the sword hilt and raised it towards herself, the iron tip of the sword scraping against the flagstones. Lifting it, she rested the tip against Arthur’s throat. He looked up at her with narrowed eyes, but said nothing, merely waited. Nimueh pressed the sword a little closer, the jab leaving a shallow cut on Arthur’s delicate skin, a narrow line of red blood trickling down his pale neck. A thin, cruel smile slid onto Nimueh’s face… Then, abruptly, she lowered the sword, spun around and stalked across the courtyard to the altar. She paused, then slowly reached out a tentative hand, curling her fingers around the stem of the Cup of Life. She picked it up reverently and turned towards Arthur, his sword still dangling from her other hand.

“I will accept your offer. I shall restore life to Merlin in exchange for your offered life, Arthur Pendragon, and mine shall be the hand to take it. I will lay your body at Uther’s feet and watch his heart shatter into a thousand pieces before my eyes,” Nimueh grinned widely at the thought.

Arthur swallowed heavily, fear rising in his chest. He had no choice but to trust that Nimueh would carry out her side of the bargain, but he knew this was a risky situation.

Rising to his feet, he gave her a brief, short nod, confirmation of his acceptance of their pact, and then turned to return to the boat. “Come,” he said, and Nimueh followed after him on silent feet.

* * *

Nimueh had sat, still and silent, in the boat, her grip on the Cup of Life and Arthur’s sword firm, her eyes never leaving him as he heaved the oars with his diminishing reserves of energy to get them swiftly back to the shore of the mainland. 

Now she perched behind him on his horse as they thundered down the path through the forest, drawing steadily closer to Camelot. Arthur felt desperate now to finish this ugly business once and for all, even if it meant his own end. 

As they cantered around a sharp bend, a dark flash caused Arthur’s horse to startle and rear up. Arthur grabbed the reins tightly and just managed to stay on, Nimueh clinging to him from behind and nearly pulling him back. He looked around urgently to find the cause of the fright and to his astonishment saw his father astride a black beast of a horse.

“Arthur!” Uther burst out, relief underlying his tone.

“Father!” Arthur replied in surprise.

Nimueh hissed and slipped down from the horse, her expression turning to hatred as she glared at Uther.

“Stay away from my son,” Uther snarled at her. “And cast your spell off him, immediately!”

“What spell, Uther Pendragon?” Nimueh laughed. “Your son acts of his own volition.”

Uther blanched, then recovered himself. “Arthur would never willingly collude with a wicked sorceress!” he retorted. Digging his heels sharply into his horse’s hindquarters, Uther burst forwards towards Nimueh, who stumbled back hurriedly, hands full of sword and Cup. She didn’t have time to raise Arthur’s heavy sword to defend herself and was caught in the shoulder by Uther’s horse’s heavy hoof, pushing her onto her knees. She fell forwards and her hands lost their grip as she reached out to brace herself; the sword clattered onto the stony path as the Cup of Life rolled away from her.

Uther was off his horse, his sword at Nimueh’s throat, before she could speak a word. “Arthur! Tie the witch up - and make sure you gag her!” he commanded; then, turning to Nimueh with a grim, triumphant smile, he said, “I could kill you now and be done with it, but you will serve better as a reminder to the people of what happens to those who defy me and taint the kingdom with their barbaric, evil practices.”

To the side, Arthur silently bent down and picked up the Cup of Life, tucking it quickly out of sight, before approaching the others with a coil of rope from his horse’s pack, tying Nimueh up for the return to Camelot.

Nimueh watched him out of the corner of her eye and when Uther had stopped speaking, merely smiled in return and said, “Take me to Camelot, Uther; for that is exactly where I wish to be.” She grinned as he turned his lip up in revulsion and turned away, sweeping back to his horse.

Arthur glanced up once he had finished binding Nimueh’s hands behind her. He reached towards her mouth with a red cloth to gag her, but before he could, she whispered warningly to him:

“Take care, Arthur Pendragon. I could easily slip these bonds but I will travel with you to Camelot. Do not think of reneging on our deal - for the sake of your precious Merlin.”

Arthur swallowed heavily, but kept his face guarded. Mounting his horse, he pulled Nimueh up behind him and urged his horse forward, following his father home.

* * *

Camelot came into view once more, and Arthur felt his anxiety only increase. He had no idea what state the city would be in now; he was bringing an enemy within its walls, and he still had no idea if his actions would be enough to save Merlin. 

The guards at the gate exclaimed loudly when they saw Uther and Arthur approach with Nimueh trussed up on the back of Arthur’s horse. A few left the gate to join them and form an escort as they began to make their way through the lower town. Uther instructed one of them to ride ahead and give the order for a pyre to be prepared to burn the witch.

As they passed a small line of shops, a woman cried out and hurried forward, staring behind Arthur. When she realised that she had caught the king’s attention, she blushed and started to shuffle backwards, mumbling apologies, but Uther bade her stay and explain what had caused her agitation.

“Yes, sire, of course! It is just that I’ve seen that woman before - she put something down the well, just before that strange drought began, and I thought it was odd but I only saw ‘er for a moment and then she was gone. Then, as you remember, sire, the water dried up and everyone was so thirsty and parched, and I could ‘ardly think as to ‘er, you know. But just now, when I saw ‘er, I knew I recognised ‘er and for doing likely enough no good, sire.”

Uther’s face was stony as he listened to the woman. Thanking her for her testimony, he turned to Nimueh and said coldly, “Yet further evidence of your evildoing!” Nimueh was unable to speak, but she boldly raised a cool eyebrow and twisted her lips into a stretched smile as best she could.

Uther swiveled back around in his seat and rode on. Behind him, Arthur’s heart raced as he remembered the deadly drought and all who had suffered because of it. Nimueh had been the cause of that?

* * *

Continuing on through the lower city, Arthur ignored the curious eyes that watched the royals and their prisoner as they made their way to the citadel, until a man’s voice called out, “Cara!” and he felt Nimueh twitch behind him. Reining in his horse, he called to the man for an explanation. 

“Why, my lord, isn’t that there Cara? She was one of King Bayard’s servants, I believe, when he came to make peace? I remember her pretty face, sire, never one to forget a face like that!”

Arthur froze as the memory suddenly returned: King Bayard of Mercia who came to sign a peace treaty and was embroiled in a misunderstanding about a chalice - a poisoned chalice, which had nearly caused Merlin’s death, sent Arthur on a perilous mission to save him and could have brought death to countless of Camelot’s citizens in an unnecessary war. Nimueh had been behind that too, how had he not made the connection? He had met her in the woods - albeit in disguise - on his way to find the morteous flower to save Merlin.

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he felt the anger rise at Nimueh’s treason, her merciless acts of revenge. Flicking the reins, he dug his heels into his horse’s side and rode on.

* * *

When they reached the citadel, Arthur led Nimueh to the dungeons. When they were alone in the cell, he took away the cloth gagging her mouth. Nimueh licked her lips, then grinned wickedly at him.

“A deal is a deal, Pendragon. Release me and we can save Merlin.”

“Tell me how the Cup of Life works,” Arthur replied.

“I thought you already knew - or are you so stupid, you’ve forgotten already? A life for a life, Pendragon. You offered yours, let me take it and bring life back to Merlin.”

Arthur frowned. “No spell is needed? No incantation?”

“Life magic is the deepest magic, words cannot reach that far.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “I see,” he said, his forehead creasing slightly as he clenched his jaw for a brief moment. He stepped forward quickly and replaced the cloth over Nimueh’s mouth, ignoring the way her eyes widened in surprise.

“Guards!” he shouted. Behind him, metal feet clanked as the guards drew near.

“My Lord,” answered one, and when Arthur turned, he saw Leon standing behind him, flanked by two others.

“Do not take your eyes off the witch while the pyre is prepared. When it is ready, bring her straight up and do not remove her bindings!” he ordered. Nimueh made an angry noise behind him, muffled by the gag, but Arthur marched away from the dungeon without glancing back.

When he returned to the citadel courtyard, the pyre was already nearly prepared. He stood to the side, half hidden behind a pillar, and took a deep breath. Was this the right thing to do? He had made a promise, he had drawn Nimueh here with an offer of making things right and sacrificing himself as recompense for the death and destruction wrought by his father. However, he hadn’t known when he made that promise that Nimueh had already been exacting her revenge and had claimed so many lives already in retaliation; lives that he had sworn to protect.

Perhaps he was being a coward; but it was his duty to protect the citizens of Camelot and if he let Nimueh take his life and escape, who knew when she might return to wreak more damage, and then he wouldn’t be here to protect his people against her.

Only one life was required, they needn’t both die. With her history of enmity, Uther would never rest until her dead body was brought before him, her end was inevitable.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of selfishness, cowardice and betrayal.

Unable to look at the towering pyre any longer, Arthur slipped away, making his way towards Gaius’ chambers.

* * *

Knocking gently on the door, Arthur pushed it slowly open and felt his heart stutter as his eyes swept around the room. Gaius was sitting at his workbench. Merlin - Merlin was nowhere to be seen. 

Arthur’s breath hitched at the realisation that Merlin’s body was not here. He strode into the room, startling Gaius who jerked and nearly spilled his cup of water.

“Sire!” Gaius exclaimed in surprise.

“Gaius, where is Merlin?” Arthur demanded, fear lacing his words.

“Sire, do not worry,” Gaius responded in a calming voice, “Gwen and Leon moved him onto his own bed in his room, to help keep him safe if anyone else were to enter my chambers.”

Arthur paused, his eyes widening. “Leon…?”

Gaius nodded. “Yes, sire. He visited me not long after you had left again, he knew Merlin had been bitten by the Questing Beast and wanted to see how he was. He had been surprised that news had not spread through the castle that Merlin had been bitten.”

Arthur felt fear settle into his stomach. “Does he know about Merlin’s… - about Merlin?” he asked. “He mustn’t tell anyone, Gaius, what rumours are going around?”

Gaius held his hands up reassuringly. “Leon hasn’t told anyone, sire; although we did have to enlighten him about the situation. He understands Merlin’s position, and that Merlin has always done his best to protect and serve you. He saw how Merlin threw himself between you and the Questing Beast.”

A wave of guilt swept through Arthur at that memory. He could still hear the soft cry Merlin had made when the Beast had bitten him, remember the way he had sagged in his arms as the life drained from him.

“He will keep Merlin’s secret, and ensure that none of the other guards who took part in that quest suspect,” Gaius continued. He peered up at Arthur hopefully. “Did you have any more luck, sire?”

Arthur breathed out a sigh when Gaius reassured him that Leon was on their side. He pulled out the Cup of Life and handed it to Gaius.

“How did you manage to get Nimueh to part with it?” Gaius said wonderingly, as he reverently took the Cup and turned it over in his hands.

Arthur twitched, feeling guilt once more. “I promised her the chance to take the life given in exchange for Merlin… my life.”

Gaius gasped. “But sire, you mustn’t-”

“And I won’t, Gaius,” Arthur interrupted, shifting under the weight of Gaius’ eyes. “I promised her, and brought her back to Camelot. But I thought her claim for revenge was justified, and now I have learned that many of the attacks and curses the city has suffered over the past years have been at her hand! I cannot let that continue, she has taken the lives of too many innocent people already. My father is preparing a pyre for her; I had meant to save her from it, but now…”

Gaius paused, observing Arthur carefully. Speaking slowly and calmly, he said, “Nimueh suffered great wrongs at Uther’s hands, as did many of her people. But that is not your fault, Arthur, nor does it give her an excuse to reciprocate in kind and cause harm to more innocents. You care for your people and you do your best to protect them. Look how you have fought to save Merlin, even when you found out that he has magic, something that he had no choice over, that he was simply born with! That takes courage and goodness - as does making the hard choices that ultimately are the right course of action. Nimueh could have chosen a different path; the choices she has made have brought her to this moment. Given the chance, do you think she would ever have chosen a different path and spared all of those people?”

Arthur looked at Gaius, considering, then shook his head. “No,” he said, “I think goodness has been driven out of her, there is only bitterness and anger left.” He sighed, ducking his head. “I-I believe that this is the right thing to do, though I fear I shall bear the guilt for the rest of my life. But for Camelot’s sake as well as Merlin’s, Merlin must be saved, and a sacrifice had to be made. Selfishly or not, I want to continue to do good for my people. The pyre must be ready now; I should at least see this through.”

Leaving the Cup of Life in Gaius’ safe hands, Arthur heaved an exhausted sigh and made his way back to the courtyard.

* * *

Nimueh was still trussed up and gagged when the guards brought her out to the courtyard. She struggled and twisted in their firm grip but was powerless to prevent them dragging her to the pyre. She met Arthur’s gaze as the guards bound her to the stake and her fury at his betrayal made him flinch back and quickly look away. Uther stepped up to speak to the gathered crowd, and then he was giving the order to light the pyre and the flames began to lick up the wood towards Nimueh. Her muffled screams grated against Arthur’s ears and he found himself growing short of breath. He had witnessed many such burnings over the years, though none had truly sat right with him. However, despite knowing that Nimueh had hurt and murdered many of Camelot’s citizens and so deserved punishment, his own role in bringing her here, his betrayal of her trust, left him feeling shaken. 

Luckily the fire burned hot enough that it was over fairly quickly, and as soon as her body had been cut down and her death confirmed, Arthur hurried away to Gaius’ chambers once more.

He was trembling with anticipation as he burst once more into the room. Gaius looked up in shock and for a moment Arthur thought that perhaps he should take a bit more care not to cause too sudden a shock to Gaius, given his advanced age. He shook the thought from his head as he saw the gilded Cup of Life glinting in Gaius’ hand.

“Did it work?” he asked eagerly.

Gaius held up the Cup. “It is filled with water now, sire. I was about to go to Merlin.”

“Let’s go then.” Arthur strode forwards and without hesitation, went straight into Merlin’s small bedroom. He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Merlin’s pale, lifeless body. He hoped desperately that the Cup of Life would restore life to Merlin, he couldn’t bear to think what he would do if it didn’t.

He held the door open for Gaius as he came into the room, then stood aside, hovering nearby as Gaius perched on the edge of the bed and lifted the Cup to Merlin’s parted lips. A thin trickle of water slipped into Merlin’s mouth. Breathlessly, they waited.

A few moments passed and Arthur grew restless, anxious that Merlin wasn’t responding. Then, Merlin’s nose wrinkled slightly and he dragged in a small breath before coughing weakly. Arthur rushed forward, kneeling next to Merlin’s bedside, his fingers clutching at the rough mattress. Merlin took another breath, and then another, and another. His tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips and then his eyes were opening, and they were brighter than Arthur had seen them in days. Merlin blinked, and looked around, catching sight of Arthur and Gaius next to him.

“Merlin…?” Arthur asked, his voice wavering as he leaned in closer to Merlin, scanning his features urgently for any sign that Merlin might be pulled away from him again.

“Arthur..” Merlin replied, his voice dry and husky. He gave a weak cough and licked his lips again, his eyes flicking over to Gaius before turning back to Arthur. “What-what happened? I feel…different…”

“Different how, Merlin?” Gaius asked almost sharply.

“The pain - it’s gone,” Merlin frowned. He took a deep breath and moved as though to push himself into a sitting position. Arthur reached out a hand to press him gently back down to the bed. He couldn’t resist letting his hand slide down from Merlin’s shoulder over his heart, feeling a relieved twist in his stomach at the feel of the steady thumping beat.

“Just rest, Merlin, don’t try to sit up.”

Merlin quirked an eyebrow at him, his lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. “Rest?! If you’re letting me rest, I must be ill!” Arthur’s heart twinged at the words, coupled with the very familiar expression that was so typically Merlin. Merlin sank back into the mattress and paused thoughtfully. “The last thing I remember was the caves, searching for the Questing Beast. Then… nothing but pain and flashes of the workshop. What actually happened?”

Arthur turned to look at Gaius who gave him a grim nod. Together they related the events of the past few days to Merlin, whose face paled when he heard how he had slipped in and out of death and the risk the curse caused to every living being in Camelot. Unthinkingly, Arthur gently took Merlin’s hand in both of his, his warm fingers softly caressing Merlin’s skin. Merlin was trembling slightly and when Arthur studied his face, finding that Merlin was hardly looking at him, he realised that Merlin was trembling with fear. Interrupting Gaius, who had just explained how they had revived him with water from the Cup of Life, Arthur said,

“Merlin - I know now that you are a sorcerer - but I want you to know that you can trust me. I know you, Merlin, you wouldn’t even harm a fly. You don’t even let me take down a single deer when we go hunting! You have nothing to fear, you and your secret are safe with me; I won’t tell a soul.” Arthur looked up from where he was staring at their joined hands, feeling the weight of Merlin’s gaze upon him. They stared at each other for a long moment, Arthur getting the feeling that Merlin was almost sizing him up. Finally, Merlin’s face relaxed and a soft, almost grateful, wondering smile lifted his lips. The hand held between Arthur’s gave a gentle squeeze.

“My magic is for you, Arthur; I will always serve you only. My Prince. My friend. My lo-” Merlin’s voice caught on the last word, his eyes widened and he quickly looked away. Arthur’s hand shot out and he caught Merlin’s chin, turning his face back towards him, before moving to cradle Merlin’s cheek. He leaned forwards.

“Merlin…” He stared at him, his eyes drinking in all the signs of life in Merlin - the blush lightly staining his cheeks, the faint sound of each breath leaving his lungs, the dart of his tongue as he moistened his lips. He had held these feelings in check for so long, certain of their inappropriateness, that the two of them together could never have a future. After the past few days, however, after all the heartbreak of losing Merlin over and over again, Arthur knew he had to tell him, he had to say these words. “Merlin, I- I love you. Not only as a friend, although you are the truest and dearest friend I have. Merlin, I am in love with you. The past few days…” Arthur closed his eyes, swallowing heavily. Opening his eyes to look once more upon Merlin, he continued, “I cannot bear to lose you. Not again, and never again like this!” He took a deep breath and said in a lighter tone of voice, “And if you ever even think of sacrificing yourself for me again, Merlin, I swear I will kill you myself!”

A burst of laughter sprang from Merlin’s lips as he grinned in delight and awe. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he retorted, “Well, clotpole, what does a recently returned to life, weak and weary servant have to do to finally get a kiss off his cabbagehead prince?”

Next to them, clearly forgotten, Gaius gave a pointed small cough and pushed himself to his feet as Arthur and Merlin both jerked and turned to him, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“I will take my leave and give the two of you some privacy. Merlin - my boy - I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you well.” Gaius paused, his hand resting on Merlin’s shin, as he gladly took in the sight of Merlin’s bright eyes looking up at him. Shaking himself slightly, he patted Merlin gently and turned to leave the room, deciding to finally take some well deserved rest after the past grueling few days.

Once Gaius had closed the door behind him, Merlin turned back towards Arthur.

He tugged on Arthur’s sleeve with the little strength remaining in his arm and Arthur let himself be pulled forwards. He met Merlin’s lips eagerly in a gentle kiss, letting himself revel in the knowledge that this one was to be only the first of a great many.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to Kinkmeme for more great fic prompts: kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/1806.html


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